


Calling out

by Insertsmartnamehere



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Campbell is ready to save her, Daisy is only mentioned, F/M, First Aid, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, bullet wounds, or maybe not, she's the cause of all the trouble though, shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 18:38:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10471464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insertsmartnamehere/pseuds/Insertsmartnamehere
Summary: Daisy has been kidnapped and no one seems in a hurry to get her back. At least, not in as much hurry as Lincoln. When he sets out on his own, though, the savoir discovers he could really use some saving himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own these characters or this universe. All I own is this little story and a desperate soul waiting for your comments.

Lincoln dropped to his knees on a muddy patch of ground on the other side of the forest. Even if the men following him showed up right now and seized him, he wouldn’t have had any energy left to struggle. The car was gone, again. Daisy was gone, still. And he was not gone, yet, but it wouldn’t take much longer.

Slowly, he crawled to a tree, working his back up against the trunk. As soon as he sat, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Blood dripped from his shoulder, painting a warm, red trail over his clammy skin.

This was the worst part of being a doctor, he realized. When he was injured, he couldn’t make himself believe things would be alright – not while knowing so damn well when the blood loss was getting dangerous, not while recognizing each sign of shock right as it clawed its way up his body. His heartbeat was irregular and even though the bullet had not hit something vital, it was getting harder to breath.

That was when the phone sprang to his mind.

S.H.I.E.L.D.

They had found out that morning where the men had taken Daisy: a big building, surrounded by forest, using suspiciously large amounts of energy in the past few months. Immediately, the team had been called together for a meeting.

‘Time is the most important thing right now,’ Coulson had said. 'We need plans, maps. Don’t let them convince us to do something rash.’

Even if Lincoln had begged, no one would have heard. They weren’t paying attention to him. But he would be damned if he let his Daisy stay in those stranger’s hands for another minute.

So: a car, a gun, a phone.

He had forgotten about the last thing as soon as the car was parked out of sight and he was creeping up the side of the building. Hiding and sneaking, that was how he had found his way in. There was no thought in his mind but the vague outline of a near future, which included both him and Daisy, together, save, maybe kissing.

When they found him, cutting off his way by surprise, he hadn’t had time to think about calling for backup. In seconds they were on him. Fighting, running, shooting over his shoulder; his memories got hazy at this point. Somehow, he made it out of the building. A wild chase into the forest followed.

There had been a bird, he thought, flying just over his head. Then an explosion of pain.

Running had turned into stumbling. There were tears in his eyes; he couldn’t see shit. His steps were jostling the wound. Pain, pain, pain.

And now he was here and he had lost them. The lip he had bitten through was beating with the rhythm of his heart.

But he still had the phone.

S.H.I.E.I.L.D.

Carefully, Lincoln moved his good arm, feeling through his pockets. His shoulder shifted slightly, and he hissed between his teeth.

There it was, thank god.

He pulled out the phone and picked Simmons number without giving himself time to hesitate. She would scold. But he would live.

A bleeb. _Pick up, for the love of god, pick up_.

'Campbell? Lincoln? The hell – where are you? We’ve been looking everywhere!’

Well, that was a way of greeting. Lincoln gathered his strength, hoping he would sound at least a little normal. Freaking her out wasn’t the way to go right now. 'Hi, Jemma,’ he said softly.

On the other side a hard intake of breath sounded. So far for normal. 'Lincoln! Are you okay? You don’t sound okay.’

He swallowed, searching the words on the back of his tongue. His mouth was dry. 'Jemma – I need your help. I am shot. I went – I went to get Daisy.’

Vaguely, he could hear people yelling. A rustle signaled Simmons getting back to the line: 'Okay, right, okay, we are coming. Don’t panic.’

'I’m not panicking,’ Lincoln answered, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears.

A door closed. 'Alright,’ Jemma said. ‘We are on our way. Lincoln, can you describe where you are?’

Talking was starting to take it’s toll. Lincoln felt the phone slip half out of his hand; it suddenly took to much strength to keep holding onto it. 'Edge of the forest – the save side. East.’

'We’re coming, Lincoln.’ Simmons’ voice was urgent. 'We are coming, you hear me? You hang in there, Lincoln. Stay awake.’

Tires slipped on asphalt in the background. She used his name too often and he knew that trick, but he didn’t point it out. Instead, he let his eyes slip close. The pain was turning from something hard and hot and angry to a dull buzz.

As a doctor, he knew that wasn’t right.

He couldn’t seem to care.

S.H.I.E.L.D

A tap on his face woke him. Someone was touching his shoulder and god –

Growling, he tried to push the hands away.

'He’s waking up!’ a voice he vaguely recognized called out. He slowly blinked, trying to get rid of the mist. A face swam into vision, and after a few more blinks he could see it almost clearly. Jemma Simmons.

'Lincoln?’ she said. 'Keep your eyes on me. That’s good. Leo, hold onto that shoulder.’

More pressure; nausea flooded him and he almost gagged.

'I have brought everything I need. We don’t have time to get you back to the basis. Coulson is here, too. He’s keeping watch. We are going to move you a little, and then I will take out the bullet. Do you understand?’

He thought he managed to nod. The lines in Jemma’s face softened for a moment and she reached out. Very gently, the back of her hand landed on his cheek. 'This is going to hurt, Lincoln. But we need you to stay as still and silent as possible. Think you can do that?’

'O'course I can,’ he mumbled.

A hand squeezed his good shoulder, but he wasn’t sure who’s it was.

'Let’s get to work then,’ Jemma said. 'Leo, if you mind.’

The pressure relented, but he had barely time to be relieved. Fitz shoved him away from the comforting solidness of the tree. Dizziness. He fought it, biting his lower lip. Then the solidness was back, warm this time, and softer than the wood had been.

'Fitz?’ Lincoln whispered. 'We spooning?’

'Since you didn’t get your girlfriend back, you’ll have to do with me,’ Fitz answered.

The thought of Daisy made Lincoln flinch as badly as touching the wound had done. Fitz coughed. 'I am sorry. I was trying to lighten the mood.’

'Well, try keeping your mouth shut,’ Simmons said. 'Lincoln, I am going to start now. Squeeze Fitz to pieces if you have to, but don’t scream.’

Arms wrapped around Lincolns chest. He brought up his good hand and folded his fingers around Fitz' wrist. 'Ready,’ he said.

But he wasn’t, really. When the tweezers went in, he gritted his teeth and held onto Fitz for dear life. Jemma kept talking to him. Even though he didn’t get her words, the reassuring rumble was somewhat of a comfort. So was the body behind him.

If they ever asked, he would deny everything.

As Jemma moved further, he bared his teeth and arched his back. It was hard to control himself, hard not to howl or thrash around. Snowflakes of color were dancing behind his closed eyelids.

'Got it,’ Jemma said. 'Lincoln, it’s out. Breath. You did great. It’s over. Easy now. Breath.’

He tried to do as she said, but he couldn’t stop gasping. He didn’t even notice Fitz pushing down on the wound again. Every exhale was combined with a whimper.

'On my count,’ Jemma said. 'In. One. Out. That’s right. In. Two.’

Slowly, the pain dulled a little. He relaxed as oxygen flowed into his lungs.

'I’ll stitch it now, but that shouldn’t be as bad. Then, we will take you home and get you on some good, strong painkillers.’

After the removal of the bullet, stitching, indeed, didn’t seem that bad. Lincoln managed to breath through it, and was left mostly exhausted, slumped against Fitz. There was no strength to stay upright, no strength to feel embarrassed, either.

'Take a minute,’ Fitz said from behind him when it was done. Jemma was picking up her stuff. 'We’ll have you save and sound in no time.’

Even exhausted, he couldn’t let this last thing slide. 'Daisy… when will she… be save?’

Fitz let out a small huff. 'Soon. As long as you keep yourself out of it. If she came back and you had died, she would probably kill all of us.’


End file.
